Bombshells
by EnglandBabe1997
Summary: Gracie Lou is an FBI agent. That explains why she is so willing to take the bomb off Cheryl's hands - quite literally. Or in which Cheryl finds out about Grace. Please read and review x


**I've had this half written for ages - since I first watched the film about back in May. I've only just gotten round to finishing it and posting it x Please read and review x I know Cheryl is out of character, but I wanted to play with her as a bit sarcastic (in the original edit of this, she was a lot sweeter and naive, and this wasn't written in first person - so please tell me if I've neglected to change one of the tenses) x**

"And that means this year's winner is Miss Rhode Island! Cheryl come on up here!"

My mouth dropped open and I choked slightly. I couldn't believe this! I was Miss USA! I gaped for another moment before realising my mouth was unattractively open and hesitantly stepping forwards to receive my crown, hoping that this wasn't a dream. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gracie struggling to reach me - to congratulate me!

The crowd was applauding loudly and I couldn't stop smiling. Wait until my friends heard about this! And my parents! I'd shown them all - quite literally.

At the edges of my mind I could hear the music and the crowd, singing loudly - the song I'd sung so many times, praising the unnamed Miss USA. Only this time_ I_ was Miss United States! Was I dreaming?

I was about two minutes away from complete and utter hysteria, or perhaps a nervous breakdown. Could you get a nervous breakdown from sheer excitement?

At this rate I would find out in a minute.

I made my way forwards, quivering with excitement as the crown was placed on my head. In a moment I thought I would leap off the stage in exuberance or make a fool of myself on live TV. No, that couldn't happen - especially not now I'd been named Miss United States. If I did that I'd never manage to live my humiliation down. Walking in a straight line was critical - and luckily something I'd practiced. Probably more than I should - but it was never too much for a Miss United States girl, particularly one who was _actually_ Miss United States.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gracie mouthing something to me and I was honestly touched that she cared so much. Gracie had been so nice to me, nicer than anyone had been in a long time. I trusted her.

Gracie continued forwards, struggling to reach me, an odd look on her face and a panicked look in her eyes. I shook my head at her, indicating I couldn't hear her. She struggled harder. Feeling bad, but knowing I would talk to her later, I turned my back on her and looked into the cameras, giving one of my carefully practiced smiles. I was elated that I'd had the chance to use this particular one - the one specially designed for this occasion, had it ever come to pass.

It had.  
I couldn't stop smiling.

She looked panicked now - serious. And with a flying leap she swung forwards and wrenched the crown off of my head, tugging at my carefully styled hair as she did so. I wanted to cry out in pain but I couldn't say a word - not now that Gracie had betrayed me as well. I'd thought I could trust her, but she'd shown that she was the same as everyone else, willing to betray me when it suited her. Even knowing it was futile I reached out for the crown that had been snatched away from me.  
I was close to tears - but not yet. I would not humiliate myself any further on national television.

Just as I turned away to leave, there was a loud explosion that shook the stage and I found myself toppling to the ground and landing with a harsh thud. I cried out in pain as I fell. Looking blindly in the direction of the explosion I could see thick grey smoke billowing not too far from me and that Gracie had also been knocked to the ground, the crown evidently knocked from her hands.

"Gracie?" I wasn't heard over the hysterical screaming of the other girls.

"Your crown was a bomb!" Miss California screeched.

My crown was a what?

"A bomb?" I gasped.

"It...it just exploded."

That's what bombs usually did.

"Gracie saved your life."

Maybe that was why she'd taken the crown. But how had she known about the bomb? Why would she willingly take a bomb off of me?

I looked over at her as she screamed hysterically. "Eric? Eric!"

Who was Eric? Even as I wondered, a face popped up over the balcony, ash covered. Gracie sagged in relief before straightening again.

"Throw down my stuff!"

What stuff?

"Wait a second Hart!"

Hart?

'Eric' threw down a small bundle of things in black leather. Gracie pulled out a pair of handcuffs and launched herself at Miss Morningside.

What on earth was going on?

"What are you doing?" Miss California gasped.

She didn't get a reply.

As Miss Morningside was ushered from the room by Gracie, a pair of handcuffs clipped to her wrists and an outraged expression painted onto her face, a group of men in blacks suit swarmed into the room like bees, ushering the girls out of a separate door into a side room that opened out onto the front doors. Out of the room came the blaring of sirens as a few of the suited men walked so they were visible to all of the groups.

"Calm down, calm down ladies!" They shouted to the hysterical room.

What was going on? I couldn't tell - I was too dazed by the explosion, examining the soot and ash on my arms, trailing up in twisted patterns. I supposed I was in shock - that was what it felt like and I felt that I looked like someone off Holby City or another medical problem when they diagnosed someone with a similar condition.

"Calm down?" Miss Texas screeched, looking positively dishevelled. In fact most of them did - a fact that was thought by many to be impossible for any contestant in the Miss United States pageant.

"Calm down miss."

"Can you explain what's going on?"

"What's happening?"

"Why did my crown explode?"

With my question the entire room burst back into fresh hysterics.

"Ladies!" The man looked ready to snap at us - a bunch of girls who were inclined to reach a pitch unheard of until now.

"What's happening?" I repeated for someone.

"I'm Agent Johnson from the FBI," the man introduced.

"The FBI?" What was the FBI doing at a beauty pageant?

As if answering their unasked question Agent Johnson continued. "We received intelligence that a bomb was due to be detonated at the Miss United States pageant.

We did what we could to gain control over the situation and are currently finishing off resolving it."

"Is that why Miss Morningside was being taken away?" I asked.

"Yes Miss. She was responsible for organising the threats, impersonating a famous terrorist as she did so."

"So she's gone?" Miss Hawaii repeated for clarification. "For impersonating terrorists?"

I decided not to remind her about the bomb. I already had a headache.

"She will be sentenced and jailed."

All of the girls gasped dramatically, and one at the back - I couldn't see who - actually fainted. It seemed it was too late for my poor head.

Miss Texas, who had calmed down slightly, interjected, "What do you mean you had control of the situation? This was a risk to our lives! Why did you not cancel the pageant?" She looked as though she couldn't believe she'd actually said that, but knew that her life was more important than her hair-do. Another few of the girls breathed in sharply, as though in a cliché movie.

I wondered how they were all so vain.

"Very good question ma'am. We had an Agent on at all times."

An Agent? We'd had a secret Agent hanging around for days? I had to admit, under any other kind of circumstance, that would've been very interesting - even cool.  
"Who was this Agent?"

Agent Johnson hesitated for a moment, looking as though he was considering telling us. He glanced back at us and visibly did a double take. I looked over my shoulder to find every other girl from the pageant fluttering their eye lashes at him as though we were camels in the desert.

"Ladies. Wait a minute - I've no doubt you'll find out soon."

What did he mean?

Interrupting our interrogation of him was a short burst of static, that had him flinch violently, along with the other Agents in the room; who had - until now - been both soundless and motionless. The girls all winced and one screamed. I resisted the urge to turn around and yell at them all to go home. I wanted answers not hysterics.

It seemed I couldn't have both. Then again I had entered a beauty pageant. I hadn't expected them to be the Brains of Britain.

I supposed I wasn't either - but Gracie had made me feel like she mattered at least.

Gracie.

Gracie!

Where was Gracie?

I zoned back in, out of my frantic musings, barely restraining myself from rushing out of the door to find my new best friend, to hear Johnson to reply to a question he'd been asked through his earpiece - what had caused the static.

"They're all fine. Are you sending yourself through?"

He received an inaudible answer - well inaudible to the rest of us.

He gestured to the doors which swing open and Gracie walked through, having (what looked like) kicked her way out of her heels, and grasping tightly to the arm of 'Eric'.

He flashed us what he obviously thought was an award winning grin - not that he'd had half as much practice as many of the girls gathered here. "Hello ladies. I'm Agent Eric Matthews from FBI New York."

Miss Texas gasped. "Wait a minute. You were on the balcony for Gracie that one time!"

He winked.

"You had an FBI Agent on your balcony and you didn't tell us?" The girls sounded outraged at this deprival from gossip.

Well it was nice to see some of the girls already bounce back. Glad to see they weren't easily affected by small things like bombs.

I was expecting Gracie to tell us that it was because she didn't known he was an FBI Agent, but she didn't say anything of the sort. Instead she seemed to blush faintly and her fingers flexed as though to hold onto him tighter.

Johnson slowly edged his way out of the jam-packed room, despite leaving the other suits spread out around the edges.

"Girls! Girls. You need to listen to me."

"We're not doing anything but."

Gracie took a deep breath. "My name is actually Grace Hart. I work in New York as an FBI agent."

The girl who had shrieked fainted.

Gracie smirked faintly. "I wasn't expecting that." She looked at me, slightly white under the soot, and nervous looking.

I couldn't help but stare incredulously at her. I supposed that explained why she was willing to take the bombs off my hands - literally.

Miss Hawaii gaped. "_You're_ a secret agent?"

"FBI agent. There is a slight difference." Gracie - Grace - had seemed to recover a bit of the colour in her cheeks and gave another smirk.

"I don't believe it."

Gracie reached under her dress, pulling the hem up, and then pulled out a leather strap, flicking out her badge and flashing it at us. She replaced it before taking out her gun and twirling it on her index finger, sliding it back into the holster after a few seconds.

She hadn't let go of Eric's arm.

I thought it was quite sweet.

And I'd tell her that. As soon as I finished off telling her off for not telling me she was a secret agent. You couldn't just spring things like that on me.

(Or Stan Fields. He was far more likely to have a heart attack.)


End file.
